


Boyfriends

by RembrandtsWife



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bitty is a boy, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8600491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/RembrandtsWife
Summary: Bitty is a boy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ... I am in a fandom about gay hockey players? How did this happen?
> 
> I blame Dizzy Redhead, pusher, enabler, beta-reader.

Bitty is a boy.

Sometimes Jack likes to remind himself of that fact.

Bitty is short (though not according to Bitty), with big eyes and a soft mouth, narrow shoulders, a high voice. He sings along with Beyonce and other female pop stars in the shower. He bakes pies and makes bag lunches for people and dressed as the pie-making lady from Sweeney Todd one Halloween. With the white cap on top of a wig, he looked almost too feminine.

Bitty is dozing after sex. They'd just hugged and kissed and rubbed off against each other, too worked up at being together after Jack had been on roadies for a month to do more. But they’ll do more. In the meantime, Jack slept on the bus on the way back to Providence and doesn't feel at all drowsy. He's not upset that Bitty's conked out on him, though. He's happy to have a chance to look at Bitty without feeling self-conscious about how much he wants to just look at Bitty, and to touch his boyfriend without it escalating into sex right away.

Jack likes sex. He *really* likes sex with Bitty; honestly, it's better with Bittle than it's ever been for Jack before. But he also likes just touching people. Shitty taught him that, actually, with his blatant disregard for the way straight bros are supposed to behave, and Lardo, too, who showed him affection in stupid straight-bro ways like punching his arm. So Jack smooths Bitty's hair away from his face and studies the very sparse, very pale down at the corner of his jaw that is the closest Eric Bittle gets to growing facial hair. He spreads his hand over Bitty's narrow chest, dusted with a few fine gold hairs curling over well-defined pecs, and tunes in to Bitty's heartbeat. It's slow and strong and comforting.

Bitty has one arm thrown over his head, crooked on the pillow; the hollow of his armpit is tufted with darker gold hair. Jack discovered that Bitty shaves his underarms in the summer, when he likes to wear tank tops and shorts and drive Jack crazy showing off his freckled shoulders, his tanned biceps, his amazingly long legs. But it's late November now, cold and damp, and Bitty is pale all over, his underarms hairy like his crotch.

Jack slides his hand down Bitty's torso, firmly, so as not to tickle, until the tips of his fingers meet the edge of Bitty's pubes. The hair that cushions Bitty's soft, plump cock is thick and coarse and curly, and glitters when the light hits it just so. It grows a little softer and straighter over Bitty's balls, then turns curly again between the cheeks of Bitty's ass.

Jack may have a thing for Bitty's ass. His own derriere has had a fan following of its own for a while, but he secretly worships at the shrine of Bitty's perfect small, firm, round bottom. He likes feeling those hairs tangling over his tongue when he licks Bitty there, likes hearing Bitty's high, pitiful whimpers when he pushes his tongue in, loves watching the head of his cock move in and out of Bitty's hole--

"Jack?" Bitty wiggles his beautiful bottom against Jack, who suddenly notices that he's hard again. "Are you happy to see me, or have you just got a hockey stick in your pocket?"

Jack bends and nips the curve of Bitty's ear. "I don't have any pockets. I guess I must just be happy to see you. And feel you." He lets his hand slide further down and cover Bitty's crotch.

Bitty rolls toward Jack and slings an arm around his neck, a leg over his hip. It only takes one kiss for him to get just as hard as Jack is. His hand finds Jack's cock, and they stroke one another while they keep on kissing. Bitty's hands are small, but hours of kneading dough has given him strong forearms and a strong grip. He has the same hockey calluses Jack does, though Jack's are getting tougher every day from professional play. There's a nasty-looking stripe on his left forearm, starting at the wrist, a burn scar from a hot oven.

Jack slides down in the bed, kisses Bitty's knuckles in passing, and gets the head of Bitty's cock in his mouth. "Oh, sweet Lord," Bitty groans, sprawling out on his back to let Jack suck him. Bitty's cock isn't as long as Jack's--it would look pretty funny if it were--but it's fat, and hard, and the lack of foreskin is still a novelty. Jack runs his tongue around the exposed head, flicks at the salty drop gathering in the slit, then goes down until his nose brushes glittering curls and sucks lavishly. Bitty thrashes and whines and gets purchase with one hand in Jack's hair. 

"Oh Jack, oh Lord, Jack, Jack--fuck me? please? please fuck me?"

There's no saying no to that pleading note in Bitty's voice. He tries not to be too thrilled that he was the first person who fucked Eric Bittle; then again, he's also pretty thrilled to be the first person Eric Bittle fucked. They're both flexible, which is nice.

He lets go of Bitty's cock with a long lick up the underside, then finds the lube with one hand without even turning to look. He doesn't want to take his eyes off his boyfriend. Bitty's face is flushed, his dark eyes even darker than usual, and his tongue flickers over his lips as if he's thirsty for a kiss. Jack will give him one in a minute. His cock lies hard against his belly; his legs are spread, heels digging into the mattress. "Mon lapin," Jack murmurs, stroking a slick finger over Bitty's hole. Bitty makes a choked whimper. Jack drops a kiss on Bitty's knee and slides his finger up and in. 

It doesn't take long till Bitty's begging for Jack's cock. Jack loves that about him, that he's just as verbal during sex as he is the rest of the time. He smears a last squirt of lube over Bitty's ass and then over himself and finds Bitty's mouth as he pushes in. _Crisse_ , it feels good. Hot and silky and tight and Bitty's cock arcs against his belly, Bitty's strong arms and legs wind around him.

"Ngh, Jack, it's so good, oh fuck, oh yes, oh, oh! right there, right there--"

Jack moves slowly at first as Bitty babbles, just because he wants it to last. He kisses his way down Bitty's neck and over his collarbones and down to his nipples until finally he's kneeling up, Bitty's heels on his shoulders. He's ready to thrust a little harder, a little faster. Bitty's pushing back, twisting his hips up and into Jack's thrusts, grunting softly while he jerks himself. Jacks cups Bitty's ass in his hands and squeezes, and suddenly Bitty shouts, "Oh Jack!" and comes, spurting all over his hand, belly, thighs. Jack grins at his boyfriend's blissfully shocked expression and shoots for the net, savoring every little noise Bitty makes as Jack fucks him until he comes.

He manages to pull away, gently, before he collapses. He puts some distance between their sweaty, sticky bodies, but his face winds up mashed into Bittle's chest. Bitty murmurs Georgia endearments and pets his hair. Everything smells like sweat and come and Jack Zimmerman couldn't be happier that his boyfriend is, in fact, a boy.


End file.
